


In Makeshift Quarters

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-26
Updated: 2009-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Captain Apollo, there are some things I need to do before I die."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Makeshift Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/profile)[**dashakay**](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/) for getting me hooked on the show and for her fantastic beta of my first BSG fic.

  
Title: In Makeshift Quarters  
Author: [](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/profile)[**icedteainthebag**](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers: S1  
Pairing: Lee Adama/Laura Roslin  
Wordcount: 2,479  
Summary: "Captain Apollo, there are some things I need to do before I die."  
Author's Note: Thanks to [](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/profile)[**dashakay**](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/) for getting me hooked on the show and for her fantastic beta of my first BSG fic.  
_____________________________

"Captain Apollo, there are some things I need to do before I die."

She's sitting on her couch in her quarters, back straight, expression calm. Her gaze is intent on him as he stands before her. He keeps a steady eye, despite the fluttering feeling she causes in his gut, like he's on a pre-flight Viper getting prepped for the hunt.

"Of course, Madam President." He stands still, focusing on his breath. _She means something, something deeper,_ he thinks. _She always means something deeper._ She blinks once, slowly, as if waking from a dream. Finally, she takes a deep breath and speaks again, folding her hands in her lap.

"You've been a great help since I assumed this office. I appreciate your willingness to work with me, despite your father's perseverance in his denunciation of my appointment as president."

"You've taken your rightful place as leader of the Twelve Colonies," he says, blushing slightly at his compliment. He's extremely good at stating the obvious. She smiles softly and he relaxes a bit at her approval.

"I know it may seem like I've got a one-track mind. That I'm all business. And I am when it comes to this post. I take it very seriously. There is no single more important matter to me than the survival of the human race," she says, taking her glasses off and placing them on the long counter behind her couch.

"Of course," he says with a curt nod. He watches her stand up and smooth her hands over her skirt, then raise her head and walk to him slowly, purposefully. His heart begins to pound in his chest and he silently chastises himself for the highly intrusive and improper thoughts that are racing through his mind. _She's the president, the president, Lee,_ he thinks.

She stops a few inches in front of him and looks up into his eyes. Her head tilts slightly to the side. "Knowing that fact, Captain, I also have to admit that I'm human, and have the same wants and desires as others around me."

 _She's the president, Lee._ "Yes," he manages.

She reaches out and brushes her fingertips across his cheek, feather-light. He flinches. "I’m sorry," she says, pulling her hand away.

"It's...it's fine, Madam President," he says. He takes her wrist and brings her hand up to his face again, finding it harder and harder to breathe as she runs her fingers across his jawline, his chin, down the side of his neck. It makes him shiver. She rests her hand on his chest and she stares into his eyes.

"I don't want to conduct myself inappropriately," she says, her voice softer, though no less commanding than he expects.

"I'm...this...it's not inappropriate," he stutters, feeling the warmth of her hand through his uniform.

"Please tell me if, at any time, you feel otherwise," she says, her hand sliding down his chest, resting on his stomach. He feels an uncomfortable shift of blood flow due south from all parts of his body and grits his teeth, trying to remain collected.

"Noted," he says, feeling her fingers pluck at a button on his coat.

She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hand on his stomach. She takes several more, and then looks sharply up at him. "I need you to make love to me. I need to feel close to someone. I want this person to be you."

He's stunned by her words. His composure falls a few notches as he takes a shaky breath, feeling his cock twinge. "Madam President..."

"Yes, Captain Apollo?"

"It would be an honor."  
_____________________________

"Undress me," she says, her stance dignified, in the same tone she uses when she's battling with his father over the wireless. And so he does, unbuttoning her suit coat, pushing it down her shoulders. She closes her eyes and breathes out as he pulls her silk shell over her head and drops it to the floor.

She hides her body well with conservative, well-tailored suits, but she's beautiful underneath, perfect skin and soft curves. He dips his head to kiss the top of her breasts and she pants softly, sliding a hand through the back of his hair, pulling him closer. With a hand on her waist, he unzips her skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

He glances down at her panties, white and dipping under her navel, and he gives in to the sudden urge to taste her neck, to flick his tongue against her carotid artery, to nibble on the tendon that extends itself to him when she tilts her head, her hair spilling dark over her bare shoulders.

He unclasps her bra and lets it fall. He feels her stiffen a little, then relax as he moves his mouth to her ear, sucking on the lobe.

"You're beautiful, Madam President," he whispers, his heart racing.

"Keep going, Captain," she whispers, her voice urgent.

He smoothes his hands down her back and finds her ass, cupping it in his hands. She tightens her arms around his neck and he kisses her cheek, then her mouth, and only a few seconds pass before her tongue flicks out to meet his and he feels a spark fly down his spine. He lets her kiss him, her tongue playing with his, her breath hot on his cheek.

Her lips are inches from his. "Lead me to my bedroom."

He laughs as he blushes, a little flustered. "I...I don't know where that is, Madam President. Do you even have one?"

She pulls away with a quizzical smile, then takes his hand and leads him along behind her, turning off the light on her way out of the room. He realizes he should have known it was just the next room over, but he's having a hard time thinking logically anymore.

Her bedroom is actually makeshift quarters behind her makeshift office, and he tries to avoid thinking about how easily someone could walk in on them or hear them. She turns to him at the side of her makeshift bed, eyeing his uniform.

"You're fully dressed," she says. "This matter needs to be resolved."

"Do you...want...to?" he says, his mind still spinning its wheels over the fact that he's about to frak the president.

"No," she says, sitting down on the side of the bed. She crosses her arms over her stomach, her nipples hard from the cool air in the room. He can't take his eyes off of them. He feels awkward, though he tells himself that it's stupid to think like that, that he knows what he's doing. "I want _you_ to."

"Okay." He lowers his head to unbutton his jacket, glancing up to see her watching him expectantly. He sheds it, then removes his black and grey fleet-issue undershirts. He's fairly confident at this point—he knows he looks good. He works hard at it, has a reputation of being obsessed with it. He sees something new and exotic flicker over her face as her eyes examine him, her lips parted slightly. He can hear her breathing now.

He removes his pants. He's already at full mast and he's sure she notices, but this next part is a pretty big leap, and he hesitates at removing his briefs.

"Yes," she says, with a firm nod, her gaze intense.

He takes a deep breath and pulls them down his legs. He doesn't look at her right away, instead focusing on the paneled mural on the wall behind her head.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, her body still, her voice calm.

"Yes," he admits. "It's just not every day you frak...make love to the president, ma'am."

She stands up, her arms still crossed, and lowers her chin, looking up into his eyes. "Right now, I'm not your president. Right now, I'm a woman. And I need you." She runs her hand over the ridges of his abdomen and grabs his cock, making him jump and suck air through his teeth. "And I need this."

He groans and his eyelids flutter as her hand slides over him. It feels incredibly forbidden, but so frakking good. The corner of her mouth lifts.

"Okay. I can do that. I can," he says, convincing himself.

"Excellent, Captain," she says, letting go and climbing onto the bed. She lies on her back, her head on her pillow, and puts her hands on her stomach, fingers tapping skin. Her feet rub against each other and he climbs onto the bed, crawling over her body to kiss her mouth. She breathes in and her hands are on his neck, pulling him closer, her kisses more frantic.

He can feel the heat between their bodies and he moves his mouth over her shoulders and neck. He kisses her breasts and bites at her nipples gently. She arches her back to him and grazes her fingernails across his shoulders, then puts her hand on his head and pushes him firmly down.

"Frak," he whispers as he kisses down her body on his way to her panties. He hooks his thumbs into the waist and slides them down her legs, tossing them aside.

"Please," she says, her voice finally soft, less commanding, more desperate.

He slips her legs over his shoulders and looks over her body, watching her watch him for an electrifying few seconds. Then he closes his eyes and laps at her, a long, slow stroke. She grabs a fistful of hair and moans, and he wonders how long it's actually been for her to have a reaction like that. He wants more of it.

His tongue slides through her folds, searching deeper, and he truly tastes her for the first time. He fights back a moan and she moves against him, her heels digging into his back. "Oh gods," she breathes. "Apollo...please."

He finds her clit and she whimpers when he rubs his tongue against it, over it, wanting to make her wait to come but also wanting her to come hard and fast, at least the first time. His fingers slide inside of her and he strokes her clit harder, and she's writhing with her fingers wound so tightly in his hair that his scalp sears in pain.

He doesn't care, he's felt worse before. He's felt worse in the past few days, actually.

She tenses around his fingers as they slip in and out and her hips buck up against him. He laps at her clit and watches her as she comes hard with a loud cry, her body stiff, her chin tilted to the ceiling. It sends a tingle down his spine, right to his groin, down to his toes. She's panting as her orgasm subsides and her grip on his hair loosens as her body relaxes.

"Well done," she breathes. He laughs, rising over her, kissing her stomach and breasts. He holds himself over her body as he nudges his mouth against hers. She kisses him hard and takes his lower lip between her teeth.

"Now," she says. He notes that she nearly purrs it. She pushes her hands against his chest and he rolls to the side.

She turns over onto her stomach and keeps his gaze as she steadies herself on her hands and knees. He bites the inside of his lip, so hard it hurts and he tastes the slight metallic tinge of blood on his tongue.

"Captain?"

He feels frozen for a second, frozen over how completely unbelievable this is. "Yes, Madam President?"

"Please."

He rises over her and gets on his knees behind her. He dips his head to kiss from the small of her back to her shoulder blades. Her hair smells amazing as he nuzzles into her neck. She sighs. His hands slide down her sides and over her ass and he steadies himself, pushing his body up against her.

"Are you…are you sure?" He feels like a frakking idiot asking but he feels it's his duty as a servant of the fleet to obtain permission before proceeding.

"Now." Her voice is firm.

He takes a deep breath and slides into her. She rolls her head back on her shoulders with a moan, and he matches it with his own, feeling how hot she is, how tightly she wraps around his cock until he's buried deep inside of her.

"Yes," she breathes, nearly hissing, decompressing. She pushes her hips against his and he groans, giving her one slow thrust, all the way in, all the way out. "Like that, Captain. Precisely like that."

He gives it to her slow, hard, wanting it to last for her sake, wanting it to be the best she's ever had. Because she needs it. He's fairly sure it is, given the sounds she's making and how she's moving against his body. She moans and starts to move her hips faster against him, and he takes the cue to speed up, a little at a time, until he can hear their flesh meeting over and over again and can feel her quivering around his cock.

"Is...that...good?" he asks between thrusts.

"Oh, my gods, yes," she breathes with a whimper. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

He grabs her ass and holds her while he drives into her harder. Her body stiffens again and he slides his hand around her hip to rub his fingers across her clit. He rubs it harder, faster, and soon she comes around him, throwing her head back onto her shoulders with a moan.

"Yes, yes, yes," she says over and over in her afterglow as he feels his orgasm quickly building. "Come on. Come on."

He grits his teeth, a shiver running down his body. "Pres...Laur...I..."

"Now, Apollo," she demands, her voice louder.

He squeezes his eyes shut, the sound of her voice ricocheting in his head and sending him over the edge. He groans and comes with his cock buried deep, a shockwave passing over his body.

"Oh, good," she sighs as she grinds her hips back against him. He jumps as her muscles squeeze his cock.

"Good," he says, his voice soft. It's all he can say. He's a horrible after-sex conversationalist. He hopes she doesn't expect more than that. He pictures Laura Roslin after sex, lying naked in her bed, talking about the intricacies of the evolution of the Quorum of Twelve, and all he would be thinking about is how frakking her feels like he's just shot down two dozen Cylon raiders on a run.

She falls to her stomach and he slips out of her. He lies on his side next to her, running his fingers down her back. Their eyes meet.

"Thank you, Captain," she says with a small smile.

"Thank _you_ , Madam President."

He wonders what else she needs to do before she dies. He hopes at least a few more of them involve him.  



End file.
